


Something Suitably Crass to Catch Your Attention

by Ealasaid



Category: Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleuth looked a little pale, but it was hard to tell if it was the location that was bothering him or the prospect of getting fucked by a pair of psychopathic crime lords.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Suitably Crass to Catch Your Attention

“Fuck, Droog,” Slick mumbled as the taller man half supported him out the door. “Why the fuck aren’t you drunk—drunker—drinkinger—”

“I’d help you figure out what word you were trying to say if I had any idea what it was supposed to be,” Droog grunted as the pair staggered into a wall. He wasn’t near Slick’s level of intoxication, but he was definitely feeling the effects of his drinking.

“Shuttup,” Slick said automatically, leaning heavily on Droog. “Where’s Sleuth’s place? Fuck where is that asshole we need to go bug him.”

“What for?” Droog wanted to know as they rounded a corner.

“Hell, why not? Come on let’s go fuck with him.” It seemed like a sensible suggestion, so Droog altered his course—definitely being the one in charge—and together, they stiltedly made their way through the streets to Sleuth’s cheap apartment.

Fifteen minutes of bickering and snickering (Droog laughs a lot more when he’s shitfaced) and they manage to find a door which they bang and curse at before a very angry not-Sleuth opens it and yells at them. Droog shoots him, accidentally non-fatally, and they stagger down the row of doors as the guy screams behind them while Slick whines about how the apartment was right here, he’d been there just yesterday.

“Wait wait this is it,” Slick protests as they pass by one. They stop and blink owlishly at it before they start pounding on it. It takes a minute of constant yelling to get a response, and when he finally answers the door, Sleuth looks at them as though he’s never seen people in his life.

“Hey Sleuth,” Slick says by way of greeting and pushes past the detective into the apartment. “Sorry about your neighbor. Got anything to drink?”

Sleuth stands aside as Droog shoulders in after Slick. “Oh, hello,” he slurs. The empty glass and half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the table confirms it: Sleuth is just as wasted as they are. He just couldn’t afford doing it at a bar or something.

They arrange themselves around the table and another drink is poured for all. Slick instantly launches into a litany of complaints that Droog just heard at the bar, and Sleuth does his damndest to concentrate, but ends up getting distracted by the house of cards Droog decides he has to build with his deck.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Sleuth interrupts Slick mid-spiel fascinatedly as Droog carefully balances another pair against each other. He’s three rows up.

“YES,” Slick howls, annoyed by the interruption, and slams his fist on the table. The card castle collapses and the cards glitch back to their weapons and skitter everywhere. Sleuth yells and ducks under the table as Slick roars with laughter and Droog stands there looking devastated at his pile of disorganized weapons.

“Here,” Sleuth says looking frazzled and a little sorry, and starts glitching them back. Slick keeps laughing, though, and Droog leaves off playing 52-card-pickup to snarl and punch him. Sleuth gets between the two as they start tussling and growling at each other and doesn’t really manage to do anything other than yell at them until they split apart, glaring at each other.

“C’mon,” Sleuth coaxes, and hands them both another drink. They settle back down at the table.

“So what’re you doing here so late?” Sleuth asks as Slick slams his back like he’s on his first and Droog takes a sip.

“We’re here t’ fuck with you,” Slick answers with a sharky grin. “What else?”

“Well that’s not very nice,” Sleuth says bewilderedly. “What’ve I done to you lately?”

“You exist,” Droog suggests earnestly, having finally got the rest of his deck back together.

Sleuth makes a face. “Fuck you guys,” he groans.

Slick’s halfway through pouring himself another drink, and he stares at Sleuth like he’s suddenly turned into a giant black Aberdeen terrier.

“That,” he declares, “is an excellent idea.”

“What?” asks Sleuth blankly.

“What,” says Droog, staring at his boss.

Slick leers at Sleuth. “I wonder,” he begins evilly.

Sleuth’s eyebrows fly so high you’d have thought they were ascending to god tier. “What?” he says. “No. Whooooooa, no.”

Droog eyed the detective. Personal tastes aside, either he just now noticed that the detective wasn’t too bad looking, or he had imbibed more heavily than he remembered. He stared at his empty glass. Shit, how much had he had at the bar?

Slick shot out an arm and dragged Sleuth forward by his shirt collar half over the table. Nose to nose, Slick grinned, shark teeth much in evidence.

“Droog,” he says. “Back me up here, huh?”

“He’s not too bad,” Droog says grudgingly as the drunken Prospitan flushes.

“Whoa. Whoa. Hang on guys, I don’t think this is something you’re going to want to do,” he says.

Slick doesn’t bother with an answer, he just closes the distance and voraciously devours Sleuth’s mouth in what looks like it’s supposed to be a kiss. Sleuth appears to try to resist the assault, but Slick pins him to the table and all Sleuth can do is wriggle and make startled noises.

“Get a hand in his pants,” Droog suggests with interest, leaning back in his chair.

Slick makes an affirmative noise and one hand ducks out of Droog’s range of vision and Sleuth squeaks. It’s hilarious and very interesting.

Slick’d worked Sleuth into pliable puddle by the time Droog decided it lay in his best interests to join in. “Hey Slick,” he says, getting up, “what are you thinking?”

Slick breaks away long enough from Sleuth’s mouth to ask, “You wanna do him?”

Droog strips off his suit jacket and drapes it neatly over the chair. “Where are you going to be?”

“Not behind you?” Slick whipped Sleuth’s suspenders over his shoulders and started wrenching at the buttons of his shirt.

Droog pulled off his shirt and leisurely worked off his belt and pants. “Sounds fine with me,” he drawled.

Sleuth finally managed to pull out of reach of Slick’s oxygen-depriving makeouts. “Fuck what are you doing,” he gasped as Slick stripped him of his pants.

“Fucking you, you idiot,” Droog said.

Sleuth scrabbled at the table, trying to find some purchase to leverage himself out of Slick’s hands. “Are you sure you want to do this—” and then he whined when Slick wrapped a hand around his cock and squeezed.

“You look pretty sure,” Slick commented, and pulled. Sleuth made a strangled moan.

“I’m also very drunk,” he gasped.

“You think we care?” Slick demanded and found a spot on Sleuth’s neck to suck. Droog busied himself ransacking the tiny apartment for something that wasn’t saliva.

“No,” the detective groaned as Slick’s free hand roamed.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Droog said helpfully as he returned triumphant with a bottle of lubricant, “we’ve had quite a few drinks ourselves.”

“And you’re not going to regret this in the morning?”

Droog leaned down and expertly kissed Sleuth instead of answering. “Not bad,” the mobster mused when he was done. Sleuth didn’t have long to gape at him, because Slick took the opportunity to suck the Prospitan’s cock and Sleuth couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling back into his head.

A few more minutes saw Droog sliding some fingers into the detective while Sleuth and Slick sucked face, Slick steadily working at Sleuth’s dick with some of the lube Droog had found. The detective was writhing under the mobster duo and wow was it hot.

“Are we doing it here?” Droog made it plain he wasn’t too enthused about the prospect.

“You wanna ruin the mood now?”

Sleuth looked a little pale, but it was hard to tell if it was the location that was bothering him or the prospect of getting fucked by a pair of psychopathic crime lords.

Droog looked disdainfully at the linoleum of the kitchen. “We can take a moment to relocate, surely.”

“Fine!” Slick snarled testily. Between the two of them they managed to alternately coax and coerce their host into the bedroom, whereupon Slick shoved Sleuth roughly onto the bed.

“You ready?” he demanded of the dazed detective.

“What?”

Slick crawled on top of him and sank his teeth into Sleuth’s shoulder as he gingerly lined things up right and pushed down sharply. Sleuth’s strangled scream came out in time with Slick’s needy groan.

“Roll over,” Droog commanded, more than ready to start something himself. Slick laughed hoarsely and twisted to the side, forcing Sleuth to defy gravity and sprawl on top. The poor guy was having a hard time adjusting to changes, Droog noted, but it didn’t stop him from slicking some lube on and sinking in himself. He shuddered at the feeling when he was all the way in-- Sleuth must not be doing this sort of thing often because he had the tightest ass Droog had tried in ages.

All in place, there was a pause as all three took a moment for a breather. Slick, predictably, was the first one who pushed for more, greedy bastard that he was. He snapped his hips sharply up against Sleuth, and Sleuth could do nothing but grit his teeth and strangle the noises he wanted to make as the motion pushed Droog deeper. Droog licked a stripe along Sleuth’s spine and nibbled delicately at the thin skin behind one ear as he slowly pulled out, before finding a pulse point and sucking as he slammed back in in response.

Sleuth was arching between the two, barely holding himself up off of Slick, face twisted into an expression somewhere between agony and ecstasy. Slick was snarling curses breathlessly, alternately berating Sleuth and encouraging Droog to step up his pace. Droog had very little to criticize about that idea, though he did snicker at his boss’s impatience, and said as much. Sleuth managed to get out a short laugh before Slick did something that made him cry out and shudder.

For a while there’s just heat and the press of muscle and a lot of swearing. Sleuth finally adjusted, and he rivaled Slick for the most vocal of the three, though his awed chant of “oh god oh god oh god” interspersed with the two mobsters’ names couldn’t compete with the vicious stream of linguistic filth Slick was spewing.

Then there’s a point where Droog starts hitting the right spot and Sleuth hunches inward as though trying to escape. Slick hooks a leg around Droog’s hips and urges him to go faster, go harder, god fucking damnit are you getting old or something aaaaaaagh and Droog is starting to lose interest in self-discipline—it’s not like Sleuth can see his face, and fuck the other’s just Slick—and he makes a hungry noise and leans in to shut Slick up while he drops his measured pace and starts thrusting indiscriminately.

Sleuth’s pretty sure he’s crying even though he can’t really feel anything besides Droog, long and thin, accurately slamming the bundle of nerves, and how Slick clamps down on his own cock on purpose and hnnnng that was them timing it at the same time, oh god how do they do that—oh my god they’re kissing what the fuck—

At the end of his rope, Sleuth makes a wretched sound and shoves forward of his own volition, totally destroying Droog’s pattern. Slick makes a triumphant noise as the detective snarls and pounds into him before shaking hard and coming buried to the hilt in Slick.

Droog hissed, displeased at the turn of events, but undeniably aroused. It’s heady stuff, playing with the do-gooder Sleuth. He reaches around the shivering Prospitan to take Slick in hand, palming the mob boss roughly. Slick whimpers and thrusts into his hold, practically all he needs to follow Sleuth down the rabbit hole, while Droog tries to conquer the allure of Sleuth’s contracting muscles and fails spectacularly.

Droog has enough presence of mind to direct Sleuth to collapse to one side of Slick and allows himself follow. The three lie panting on the now-rumpled bed.

“Shit.” Sleuth is the first one to speak.

Slick has an arm thrown over his eyes. He growls a satisfied affirmation.

Droog makes a pained noise after a few moments. “I need a cigarette,” he mutters.

“Check the top drawer of my bedside table,” Sleuth manages. Droog finds a half-finished pack of some brand he wouldn’t normally touch with a ten foot pole, but he takes one anyway and shakily lights up. It tastes delicious.

“Fuck,” Slick says finally, and reaches across Sleuth to snag a drag from Droog. He exhales the smoke contentedly. “Fuck, that was great.”

“Yep,” Sleuth agrees fervently.

The companionable silence stretched on for quite a while after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Googledoc streams while totally sloshed make for fun times :)


End file.
